Training : Playing for kicks
by eclectic-adam
Summary: Nightwing brushes up on his training.
1. Default Chapter

Training ****

Training

Disclaimer : I do not own any of the characters used that you may be familiar with, they are all owned by DC comics. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes rather than profit. I earn nothing from its creation or display.

If you want to display this anywhere but on Fanfiction.net please ask, I don't mind but it's nice to know.

This is my first attempt at fanfiction, I'd be grateful to any reviewer who posts a message or e-mails me, all constructive criticism is appreciated, I have a pretty thick skin, and I would like to improve my writing skills. There are more chapters to come, one is already written but I may need to review it in relation to the third chapter. Thank you. eclectic-adam.

Our past makes us who we are. If you need proof of this statement, you really need look no further than my current situation. It's 4 a.m. I'm behind the mask, on a roof and ready to swing into action.

Below a couple of small-time crooks were engaged in a little breaking and entering, I wasn't in the mood for these no hope thugs after the night I had had. It wasn't their fault I'd spotted them on my way home, Batman had taught me better than to leave them be, and Bludhaven had taught me not to leave them to the police.

Right now swooping in majestically was not in my game plan, utilising my d-cel line I dropped straight down in front of them. The question I presented them with was simple "Will you go quietly, or do I have to make you quiet"; they chose option two, giving me a chance to unwind. I'll tell you now that I went in too hard on these mooks, they were unarmed, I was tense, the conclusion of our confrontation left me slightly less tense and two unconscious goons trussed up on the police departments front steps.

The first guy walked his big gut into a light kick, which left him recovering doubled over. Meanwhile a scissors kick to the head allowed his cellmate to be, get real friendly with the floor. I admit that the circus performer in me was making a game out of these two bit villains. I liked each one of them to watch me work over his friend. 

The fight was never going to last very long and I timed the finale to entertain myself, blocking the bad punches of gangster one and letting his ally charge me from behind. I backflipped into position, crouched and launched straight up into a flying splits, it took me less than three seconds to perform, and more than one body out of the game with its execution.

This was no glory work, it was even a little bit sloppy, it showed how far my personal training had really slipped, but at least my style was mine once more. My recent sparring partner had taught me a lot, but had not managed to change my style in the way that I feared he could have, it was clear that I needed to get back to my normal routines as soon as possible…

But for tonight, Bludhaven beware, Nightwing is back in town.


	2. Training : Choices

Training ****

Training

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used that you may be familiar with, they are all owned by DC comics. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes rather than profit. I earn nothing from its creation or display.

If you want to display this anywhere but on Fanfiction.net please ask, I don't mind but it's nice to know.

This is my first attempt at fanfiction, I'd be grateful to any reviewer who posts a message or e-mails me, all constructive criticism is appreciated, I have a pretty thick skin, and I would like to improve my writing skills. Thank you. eclectic-adam.

From birth I've been shaped by circumstance just like everyone else, although my circumstances have been unique, and quite unlike anyone else's. Raised first in the circus and then in the home of Bruce Wayne and the heart of the Batman, I've managed to learn a lot of things, but managed to uncover only a handful of constants. One of the few rules that seem to transcend all walks of life is that leaving things go stale and unevolved always leads to decline. Decline in the circus meant dwindling audiences, in my current lines of work it could prove fatal.

As a result of this irrefutable constant, whenever any member of the family can afford the time we embark upon training above and beyond our regular routines. I had three days off the force in a row, which was rare; the Haven was quiet which was rarer. People now knew that Nightwing was more than urban myth and hence the illegalities were not committed quite so blatantly. Experience had taught these criminals that Nightwing could not be bought. Separately I had given Bludhavens boys in blue the clear message that officer Grayson was not for sale either. 

I could feel the city becoming too quiet. A storm was on its way, but I could sense that it wouldn't arrive for some days yet. Maybe if Nightwing were not seen around for a while, the security that surrounded the upcoming event would decrease enough so that I could breach it. It was funny that while Batman ran his reputation on fear and being visible night after night, I was most effective when I kept a low profile. The less the enemy know about me and the slower that my legend grows, the more they underestimate me and lose time and time again.

This doesn't mean that I'm not out on the rooftops night after night working, it's just that I time my interaction with the criminal element differently. When the Batman goes out he has to fight every level of crime but most times the people he takes down are unconnected to each other, here in Bludhaven almost every criminal is linked together by a network. Whenever I take out a piece of this town's jigsaw of crime the piece is replaced by a new face, a face I have to get to know. Wherever I take out a one section another is built so that the super structure of this house of cards is never seriously damaged. Sometimes my fight seems like it will last forever, but it's not behind the mask where my greatest victories are made but when I'm in my more accepted uniform.

The need to lie low, the time I had off and some weaknesses that I was noticing in my fighting form, all combined to make training seem not only a viable option but a great opportunity to fend off any staleness in my style. My next problem was deciding how to train this time and with whom. Bruce could help me brush up on my karate, slow down, hit harder, what with his style being more based on strength than mine. Tim had trained with Batman's original mentors; his style was faster, sleeker, and lighter than Bruce's out of the necessity of his smaller size. As Robin he combined the best elements of both Batman's and my own style, it was a reflection of how well we had taught him. I could always train under the tutelage of an outsider, but it'd be hard to choose one, not only was it on short notice but I also had no firm ideas about which direction I wanted my training to take. 

How to train was a question that always plagues me once I decide to learn, should I brush up old skills or learn new ones. This time I didn't think I'd find whatever I was looking for in the core of the family, and three days with an outsider might not be worth my time considering all the explanations they require. These conclusions led me to contact the angel, my blade skills were rusty, no pun intended, and our relationship could definitely withstand a sharpening.


	3. Training : Angelic Moves

Trainingc2 ****

Training

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used that you may be familiar with, they are all owned by DC comics. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes rather than profit. I earn nothing from its creation or display.

If you want to display this anywhere but on Fanfiction.net please ask, I don't mind but it's nice to know.

This is my first attempt at fanfiction, I'd be grateful to any reviewer who posts a message or e-mails me, all constructive criticism is appreciated, I have a pretty thick skin, and I would like to improve my writing skills. Thank you. eclectic-adam.

Hi, I've never kept up with any comic all that well, but trying to find the spelling for Ra's al Ghul name, I came across the cover and synopsis for Azrael: Agent of the Bat 50# where Batman does supply a new costume, I didn't know about this when I started writing (great minds think alike.lol) So my fanfic would have to occur before this comic. Any idea where I can get info or images of the new Azrael?

Specks of dust weaved in and out of the artificial light on their journey to the floor. They rushed away from Jean Paul Valley's fast flowing body as his exercises displaced the air. Watching him warm up, literally took my breath away. His sword never seemed to be in any less than three places at any one time, never did he cease moving smoothly from posture to posture, defence to attack and back again. His speed, the very fact that something so vital and alive was juxtaposed against the dead background of this decaying warehouse made him stand out.

The silence between us was becoming uncomfortable, the air growing heavier by the second; our relationship had never been particularly friendly. At times it had even become downright hostile, but that was between Azrael and Nightwing, not Jean Paul and Dick. To someone who doesn't maintain two separate identities this distinction may not seem to make any sense at all. We few with alter ego's that remain unknown to the world at large, behave differently according to whichever role we are playing. Sometimes the two can overlap but in Jean Paul's case Azrael was in many ways a totally different entity, I know that they share the same body and skills but that's where there similarities diverge. 

Azrael is subject to the system, he is not nearly as autonomous as he can sometimes appear to be, as St. Dumas' very own angel of death he is fuelled by rage and leashed via his preconditioning, where as Jean Paul can perform as his own man. Batman has tried to curb the actions of Azrael but it's only when Jean Paul is in control that he succeeds. Thinking about it, maybe our family isn't the most conducive place for his recuperation but we're unwilling to unleash him upon the world again and more importantly he has expressed a desire to stay. I hope that these few nights we spend together can ease the strain that I usually feel under when going into action with him. It becomes very hard to focus on your own task when you fear what an ally might do to the enemy or to himself. It's a sad statement of fact that Jean Paul suffers the company of so many personal demons, who are his alone to fight. In some ways I really feel that he is more alone in his struggle than Batman has ever been.

As Jean Paul stops practising the sweatmarks on his t shirt become a lot clearer, we're both wearing sweatclothes, because I thought that keeping it a little bit informal and out of costume had seemed like a good idea. Shouting "catch" I threw him a cold bottle of water, he leapt up, cleanly decapitated the bottle and caught it before performing a textbook landing and pouring the contents onto his head. His smile was clear as he shook off the excess and whatever the tension that existed between us seemed to fade as I applauded his display and we started to laugh together. I felt a lot more comfortable now, Azrael does not laugh, Jean Paul on the other hand is learning to. 

Honestly I didn't think that Azrael had been allowed any release within Jean Paul for the last few months except in the briefest of mid battle seconds. I don't know what the consequences of this are for Jean Paul, assuming the Azrael costume but not his persona, is in some ways a good thing. It shows that he is coming to terms with himself, but bottling such a demon could prove even more dangerous than allowing it out.

I'm not the only one in our family who would like to see Jean Paul take up a new costume. It is not something that we openly discuss because it has to be his decision, changes of costume are very significant, my history has taught both me and Bruce that this is true, so has Azrael's past. A costume says a lot about who you are I could never be comfortable in Batman's cowl because its not who I am, the associations that go along with the costumes we wear make our reputations. You don't want to wear the persona of another man unless you have to. The armour that Azrael currently wears is sharp edged and proclaims that he is out to do grievous violence, the gold and red colouring suggests his superiority and arrogance. Watching him move outside of it is a humbling experience because Jean Paul is so amazingly lithe but when he is inside the armour he terrifies even me. I know for a fact that Alfred who despises Azrael has several more appropriate designs worked out in the Batcave's computer, out of his growing affection for Jean Paul.

The warehouse that we stand in was a recent acquisition of Wayne enterprises, it had a good security system installed and would soon be put to legitimate use but for the next three nights it was to be our studio. There was more than enough room for our purposes, and we had seven sword wielding automated mannequins standing inactive but ready for use against the western wall.

Jean Paul was quick to reposition my stance as I held the katana for the first time; my previous experience with blades did not extend beyond the sabre and rapier. I'd never taken to bladed weapons, they didn't hold interest for me, and I saw them as a tool for the fatal combat that I had been trained to avert. Mimicking the moves that Azrael made with his blade I tried to become as comfortable with this length of metal as he seemed to be, I could see the grace in his moves. I'd always admired the beauty possible in swordplay but never aspired to an art that ended so regularly in one combatant's death. Azrael's association with blades had always seemed appropriate, considering that apart from Batman the best blade fighters I knew were all killers, Azrael, Ra's al Ghul and Lady Shiva. 

With my very basic skills and Jean Paul's hard, fast and efficient teaching methods I became proficient with many types of edged weapon in the first night. Or at least that's what I thought as dawn broke and he stopped the lesson allowing me to catch my breath, I don't care how fit you are, hours of intense training has to takes its toll. As Jean Paul handed me a towel he gave me a slice of humility "Dick you are a talented young man but swordplay does not come naturally to you, you lack the fluidity that you exude whilst performing acrobatics or fighting with blunt weapons." As I tried to control the smile that I knew would be breaking out upon my face he continued "You'll never be an expert but under my wing you may place in the top hundred fencers on earth if we continue your lessons regularly after these three days have elapsed."

How could I help but laugh deep and long, he spoke so sincerely, so seriously that his next comment made me laugh until I cried, "I'm sorry Dick but its true, you need more training and you will never be the best". It took Jean Paul a couple of heartbeats but he joined me in the laughter, we both knew I was never here to become the best, and I think he cried not from laughter but the realisation that I was here for him as much as I was for myself. With emotions running as high as the adrenaline Jean Paul excused himself "until tonight Dick Grayson, farewell". 


End file.
